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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581764">jack of hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes'>nicole_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Day 6: AU/First Time, F/M, For the Sylvgrid Discord, Pool Noodles, no beta we die like Glenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:21:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t think any of those kids play chess,” Ingrid pointed out.</p><p>Sylvain shrugged. “A few of them do. The others are there just to be there.”</p><p>OR: Teachers AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert &amp; Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Ingrid Brandl Galatea &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sylvgrid week 2020, The Pool Noodle Collective</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>jack of hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts">paperpenpal</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/gifts">sunnilee</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn/gifts">Nightsdawn</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I mean... technically I've done day 6 twice now, but we were discussing teaching roles in discord after <i>someone</i> posted her fic, so I can't just <i>not</i> write this, can I?</p><p>aka paperpenpal started a teacher's AU and I decided to hijack it and make an AU of her AU. You're welcome.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Class dismissed!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid shifted her weight and pressed a finger against her lips to hide a smile as she watched Sylvain jump off the desk he was sitting on, closing the textbook he was holding. The bell rang loudly overhead and Ingrid stepped into the classroom so that she would be out of the way of the students who bolted for the door at the end of the period. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain didn’t notice her immediately as he headed back to his desk in the corner of the room, mumbling something to himself. Ingrid stepped back and knocked against the doorframe of the classroom and his head snapped towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grin spread across his face immediately when he saw her. “Miss Galatea! To what do I owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms and tipped her head, giving him a hard look. “I believe you borrowed something of mine in first period. I do need that back for Model UN.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain snapped and turned, grabbing the rolled-up UN poster off his desk. “Thanks, Ingrid, it was very helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked between the poster and his desk where she had a funny feeling it had sat for the entire time he had borrowed it. She took the poster from him and tucked it under her arm. “I’m sure it was,” she said knowingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain leaned back against his desk and gave her a charming smirk in response. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was just waiting for her to call him out on it. Ingrid shifted and glanced at the clock above the door in the government classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You headed to the lounge?” she asked after he seemed partly content just to stare at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scratched the back of his head. “No, actually, we have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was cut off by something flying past Ingrid into the classroom, headed straight for Sylvain’s face. He managed to get a hand up in time to knock it away, but not catch it. He batted it aside and then he and Ingrid both stared at the yellow pool noodle now lying on the classroom floor that had come sailing through the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heads up, Gautier!” Claude von Riegan called cheerfully as he burst into the classroom, carrying three more pool noodles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Chess Club,” he finished, for Ingrid’s sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid opened her mouth to question the projectile, but by the smug look on Claude’s face and the resigned humour on Sylvain’s, she found she really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want to know what the senior Chemistry teacher and the Government and Politics teacher were going to do with four pool noodles when they were supposed to be leading the school’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chess Club</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head with a smile and headed for the entrance of the classroom, still holding her UN poster. “I’ll see you later, Sylvain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye Ingrid,” Claude called teasingly as she left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid rolled her eyes and headed back to her own classroom in the English wing. Ashe was standing outside her classroom as she approached, his nose in a book that was bursting with yellow sticky notes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow at her fellow English teacher. “Ashe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked his head up and smiled sheepishly. “Hey, I just wanted to see if you had any spare copies of the Moonlight Knight. I’ve had two more kids switch into my class and the English office doesn’t have any more copies of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid thought about it. “I think I might have a couple of copies from AP Lit that aren’t getting used,” she said. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She strode past Ashe into her classroom and went to the bookshelf behind her desk. Sure enough, she had four copies of the Moonlight Knight that didn’t have names in them. She pulled them off and offered them to him. Ashe grinned and took them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a life-saver, Ingrid, thanks!” He glanced at the UN poster she was holding and confusion flashed on his face. “It’s Thursday today. Don’t you usually have Model UN on Mondays?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid sighed and placed the poster down on her desk. “Yes. Sylvain asked me to borrow it for some lesson he was teaching to the Gov 12 kids today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe frowned. “Gov 12? I didn’t know they would be at the UN unit already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed her lunch bag from behind her desk and rolled her eyes. “They’re not. I have no idea why he wanted the poster. Are you headed to lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe shook his head. “No, I’ve got Writing Club with Bernadetta today. I am headed to the Art Room though so I’ll walk with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great!” Ingrid led the way out of her classroom, locking her classroom after Ashe and she had both exited the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked through the hallway and Ashe made a quick stop at his classroom to drop off the extra books. When he emerged, he was holding a folder that probably contained the stuff he needed for Writing Club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you had your one-on-one with Seteth yet?” Ashe asked, referring to their faculty administrator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid nodded. “Yeah, we met yesterday before school.” She grinned. “Medieval Lit is mine next year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, Ingrid! This is my first year with it in three years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “I know, I know. I’m happy with AP, don’t worry. At least I get to read better essays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe’s shoulders slouched. “It’s a Grade 12 elective English course,” he bemoaned. “Why are they still such bad writers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead of them in the hallway, Petra’s door banged open and the Spanish Teacher poked her head into the hallway. She spotted Ingrid and Ashe and immediately emerged fully from her classroom and practically jogged towards them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do either of you speak French?” she asked hurriedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid blinked. She knew some basic French from her high school days and the intro course she had taken as an elective in her undergrad, but she was far from fluent. Beside her, Ashe shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, sorry, Petra.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Petra frowned. “Have you seen Ferdinand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid shook her head. For once, she hadn’t seen Garreg Mach’s resident everything-man. “I think he might actually be sick for once,” she admitted. “Lorenz?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Petra shook her head. “Helping Annette with the boy’s sectional in Choir today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe winced. “That’s unfortunate. Is this an International Students Connection thing?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Petra nodded. “I have a Belgian girl who speaks very little English and even less Spanish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Ingrid said suddenly, an idea striking her. “Sylvain speaks French. He’s running Chess Club with Claude right now, but I’m sure he can spare a bit of time.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Petra sighed in relief. “Can you be fetching him? I have two Spanish kids needing a translator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid’s stomach rumbled, but she nodded. “I’ll go get him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe smiled at both of them, his cheeks flushing a bit when Petra returned the grin, “I’d come with you Ingrid, but I shouldn’t leave Bernie hanging. I have all the poems from last week anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Petra hugged Ingrid tightly before she bounced back and disappeared back into her classroom. Ingrid sighed to herself and pivoted, heading back to the humanities hallway where both hers and Sylvain’s classrooms were located. Her lunch could wait, as much as she didn’t want it to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard eager chatter as she approached Sylvain’s classroom and she steeled herself for whatever the hell was going on inside the room. The door was slightly ajar so she pushed it open fully, taking in the scene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claude and Sylvain were sitting across from each other at Sylvain’s desk, a chessboard in between them. There were nine girls and three boys crowded around them, watching as the two teachers moved pieces back and forth in a deadly dance. There were no real stakes in a chess game, but every teacher at Garreg Mach knew that pride was on the line every time that Claude and Sylvain played against each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped into the classroom and not a single eye in the room flickered to her. Half the girls in the room were staring at Sylvain and the other half were staring at Claude. Only two of the kids were actually looking at the chessboard that was the subject of both male teachers’ undivided attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid cleared her throat. Eyes darted to her and Sylvain’s head snapped up. Claude glanced back over his shoulder and smiled lazily at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Galatea,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Macneary needed a favour, Mr. Gautier, if I can steal you away,” Ingrid explained, switching to the formal names for the sake of the students in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain looked between Ingrid and the chess game in front of him. He pointed at Claude. “Don’t touch my pieces, von Riegan. We’ll finish this later.” He smiled pleasantly at the watching students and gestured at the other chessboards sitting atop desks in the classroom. “And I guess you all have to actually put those skills to good use now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood from his desk and crossed the room to Ingrid, smiling broadly at her. Ingrid’s stomach flipped against her will at the charming smile and she immediately turned away from Sylvain to leave his classroom. He kept pace with her easily on his long legs as they strode through the humanities hall back towards Petra’s classroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think any of those kids play chess,” Ingrid pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shrugged. “A few of them do. The others are there just to be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid laughed. It was obvious that the gaggle of girls were literally only in Chess Club because of the staff sponsors. Sylvain and Claude were notoriously the two most popular male teachers amongst the young, hormonal teenaged students (male and female alike). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what does Petra need?” Sylvain asked as they walked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A French translator,” Ingrid answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain nodded. “Well, that I can do. I was worried you were going to say Italian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him. “Don’t you speak Italian?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shrugged, but he was smirking. “Not fluently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved his shoulder. “You’re the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bounced right back and said something to her in what sounded like Japanese. Ingrid stopped in her tracks and stared at him. Sylvain stopped walking a pace ahead of her and looked back at her, looking a bit startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Japanese? What the fuck?” she exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trio of tenth graders nearby giggled at her foul language and Sylvain laughed. “You can blame Fe for that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “What did you even say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s smug smile loosened into a much more casual grin. “Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a stop, staring at him. “Sylvain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing bad, I promise,” he assured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid sighed, but released him, continuing the trek to Petra’s classroom. Sylvain glanced between her face and the lunch bag she was carrying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never made it to the lounge I’m assuming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she grumbled. “I haven’t eaten yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed under his breath. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re getting take-out tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are?” she questioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winked. “Sushi on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, but couldn’t help smiling. “What’s the occasion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought it might be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s smile was warm and genuine in ways that made her stomach lurch and her heart flutter. He was a charming man, that was for sure, but it wasn’t often that he truly attempted to turn his charms on her. It was almost flattering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you use the poster for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An excuse to come bother you,” Sylvain admitted freely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid laughed out loud before she could stop herself. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to just admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain stopped walking outside of Petra’s classroom and looked her in the eye. “I’ve kind of been sticking my foot in my mouth every time we have a conversation that’s longer than 20 words recently, so I figured interrupting your class would be an easy way to keep it short, but necessary. Plus, then it meant that I would get to see you twice in one day because you’d have to come and get the poster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ingrid’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He was flirting. He was definitely flirting and all of her coherent words had abandoned her quite succinctly. </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Sylvain grinned at her one last time. “Go eat your lunch, Miss Galatea. I’ll come by with sushi at eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to walk away to enter Petra’s classroom and Ingrid desperately willed her brain to say something–ANYTHING–to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain!” she called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth did you need pool noodles for in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chess Club</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain smirked again. “See you later, Ing.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and because I had to contribute to the pool noodle joke considering it was my idea in the first place.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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